


Dvele

by pakunoduh



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: And still bad at titles, Im thirsty okay, More characters will be added too im sure, Other, Tags May Change, Tags will change cause idk how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pakunoduh/pseuds/pakunoduh
Summary: A young apprentice finds themself drawn to the remains of a torched room and the man who died inside it





	Dvele

The candle in your hand flickered in an unseen wind as you travel down the corridor, your hands unusually cold despite the humid Vesuvian night. Sunset had brought a drop in temperature, but the chill in the air didn’t come from that darkness, you were sure. The shadows shifted on the pillars and long closed doors around you until you made it to the end of the passage. Your trek ended with the last door in the abandoned wing and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The darkness in the corridor stemmed from here and you weren't sure if you were ready to face it again. Only one way to find out.   
  


You stepped up to the door and took a moment to inspect it. This definitely wasn't to prolong anything. That'd be absurd! The door was just beautiful- you told yourself this anyway. And you were right, the gold inlays caught the flicker of your candle and the dulled metal still shone beneath the dust, a glimmer of its former glory greeting you. You reached out and touched a particular vine curling near the door's handle. With a start, you realized that it was warm, warmer than any metal dared to be without sunlight on a cloudless day. You pulled your fingers away and took a moment to steel yourself before moving to rap your knuckles onto the wood, but the door moved back before your fist met it. The creak of rusting hinges sounded as the door swung open for you, the gold handle turning without permission. The interior of the room was slowly revealed to you as you poked your head inside, eyes straining in the dark to find any features.   
  


This was a terrible idea.

The remains of the bed were still covered in ash, like most of the room. You could still see the imprint of your back from when you tumbled into it on your last visit. You glanced over towards the portrait on the wall and your eyes widened. Did the Count seem to be smirking more?   
  


You wandered through the remnants of the furniture around you and stopped before the gilding painting, eyes scanning the canvas for any more changes in its subject. Yes, it did seem like Count Lucio’s lips were turned up more, the faint pull of his cheek seeming more pronounced than you remembered. With a start, you noticed that the painting’s eyes seemed to have shifted as well, this time not staring into the landscape on the other side of the frame, but down at you.   
  


A step back and a short gasp created noise in the silent room as another chill settled around you. You pulled your cloak closer to your body and looked around the room, the aura shifting as if another person entered your space. You squinted back at the painting with a furrowed brow, tempted to stick your tongue out, but you withheld.   
  


Wood creaked behind you and you whipped around to follow the sound, eyes searching the darkness for movement. They settled on a black shadow beside the bookshelf to your left, the plush chair beside it indented as if someone was seated there.   
  


The form seemed to be humanlike, an assumed elbow perched as the shadowy figure sat with one leg over the other, seeming to watch you. Its edges blurred and flowed into the darkness around it, shrinking and expanding under your gaze. It felt like it was smiling at you.   
  


“You’re the Count, I presume?” you asked, casting your candle’s light towards the chair with an incredulous look. The shadow’s depths remained the same even as the darkness around it slinked away in the light.   
  


“You’re a perceptive one, aren’t you?” a familiar voice echoed around the room. It was the same sarcastic tone that prodded at you before.   
  


“No need to be rude,” you responded, looking to the side as you place a hand on your hip.   
  


“Says the person who has now entered my room twice without an invitation.” The shadow could have been smirking at you as red eyes slowly formed where the figure’s face would be. The gaze was as fiery as the one that followed you around the dining hall, you mused as you watched them appear. The Count must have gotten inspiration from the strange scene he had had depicted.   
  


“I would call an opening door an invitation.” If the shadow was smirking earlier, it was outright grinning now, eyes turning to slits as they surveyed you.   
  


“Why did you come back, little witch?” the smooth voice called.   
  


“I would prefer you not call me that.”

  
“Then what shall I call you? Intruder? Scoundrel?” the baritone asked you, “Masochist?”

  
“Why are you still here, Count?” you deflected the question. You’re not yet comfortable giving your name, and the ghoul seemed to be enjoying the game too much for it to end so quickly.

  
“This is my home, after all.” The shadow threw its limbs out and shrugs, the moment very humanlike as it continued, “Why should I be interrogated in my own palace?”

  
“Because you’re not moving on.”

  
“It seems other people are more interested in moving past my death than I am.” The figure responded before standing abruptly.

  
You instinctively took a step back as it advanced, the sound of heeled shoes echoing in the large space as the shadow strided across the room. You blinked as all of the sudden its form changed. In one step a black mass waltzed towards you, another and a handsome blonde man sauntered your way. His gold gauntlet caught in the candlelight as he grin spread at your reaction.

  
A drop of wax fell onto your hand and you cursed, setting the candle on the mantle beside you before turning back to the man who was now suddenly before you. A gasp stuttered from your lungs and your eyebrows raised as he leered.

  
“You never answered my question.” The Count’s voice flowed from his lips to your ears, metal hand under your chin to draw your face towards his, “What brought you back to my private quarters?”

  
Your voice seemed stuck in your throat as you looked into his eyes, his sclera dyed scarlet from the plague and making his gaze all the more chilling.

“How-“ you started, voice not as strong as you hoped it to be. “How do I feel your touch?” The feeling of cold metal against your face robbed you of any bite you had in store for him.

  
“I’ve been rather lonesome these past years in this dusty room.” Lucio smirked at your awe, “I’m able to make you feel  _ lots _ of things.”

  
You felt your face warm at the insinuation but pressed forward, “Lucio, what are you holding on to?”

  
“Well, right now your face.” You felt a solid hand rise to your cheek, eyes widening at the sensation, “But that’s not what you’re asking, are you?” A softer smile graced the Count’s lips and you found your gaze stuck on them.

  
You cleared your throat and looked away, “No, that’s not what I’m asking.”

  
“It wouldn’t be fun to tell you right away, now would it?” Suddenly, your face was flooded with cool air as his warm skin left your own, his form retreating back towards the chair you first spotted him in, “You wouldn’t really  _ learn  _ anything that way.”

  
“What do you mean?” You asked as his form started to flicker, “Wait!” You reached out to him as he vanished.

  
“This has been entertaining to say the least." His voice resounded from all corners of the room, your head whipping around to try and find its source, "Come back any time, little witch.”

  
“Lucio!” You yelled out into the empty room, the candle flickered in a phantom light before settling once more.

  
You huffed a sigh and turned to the portrait on the wall, the proud man depicted staring back at you. You glared at the handsome figure before your shoulders fell in defeat. You picked up the candle and flitted through the torched rumble before exiting the door. It was hard to keep yourself from turning back towards the gold leafed door, but you forced yourself to. You needed to get back to your room, and then you could dwell on what just occurred. But not here. There's too many eyes on you here.   
  


As you began to round the corner towards the warm lights of the palace, the indisputable sound of a door creaking caused you to stop, the sound of it latching echoed throughout the corridor. You couldn’t stop the shudder that raked up your spine as you squared your shoulders and continued your journey back towards your own room, a warm bed waiting for you opposed to the ashen one you left behind. 

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a thing for Lucio cause I'm trash and have a thing for cryptids and I ended up becoming more invested than I planned so this will definitely have more chapters.
> 
> Comments and critiques are welcome! (This is my first time writing in 2nd person so please let me know what you think)
> 
> Shout out @unlicenseddrsexymd for a title god bless you (dvele is a Norwegian synonym for eng 'linger' according to the interwebs)
> 
> Find me @mvriel.tumblr.com cause I need to scream about this fricken game


End file.
